A couple of weeks ago, I was send a baby food kit for review. It included a hand blender. Now we bought a hand blender when we had Harry and it was rubbish. It didn’t seem to blend the food, rather it just rearranged it. But this one – wow. From ‘proper’ grown-up food to baby slop in seconds. (That’s not the review by the way, I’ll be writing a proper review on the main site.)
The first time I used it was on spaghetti bolognaise. Joe loved it, but, more importantly as far as I was concerned, was that I made it with the spag bol leftovers that, in the past, would have gone in the bin. (Or been scoffed by me during the traditional 9pm ‘what can I eat NOW’ hunt.)
So now, as David carries the dinner plates back into the kitchen, I am heard to call, “Don’t throw anything away! Joe can have it!”
I should probably pause here to say that I don’t think I’m supposed to feed Joe other people’s leftovers in the same way you’re supposed to throw the rest of the pot away if your baby’s only eaten some (because, according to my health visitor, it will have been “contaminated by his salaver” [pronounced like palaver]), but I mean, really? What about the waste? Joe likes to chew Harry’s feet, I don’t think we need to worry about his own “salaver”.
So last night we had a roast dinner. I couldn’t quite finish mine (yeah, okay, I left half a parsnip) and so, along with the extra carrot and potato David had prepared and some chicken Harry didn’t want, Joe had one-pot roast dinner for his lunch and will be having the same for his tea.
Frankly, it’s a revelation. The trouble is, it’s addictive. I’ve started looking at everything with an eye to mushing it for Joe. Half a bowl of Cheerios? It could work. Pizza? Why not? Sandwiches? Would probably be disgusting, but in for a penny..!
I admit, I’m exaggerating for comic effect. (I ate the leftover pizza. Obviously.), but it’s still great fun. It’s like having a dog. Or a composter. Maybe I should start putting Joe’s dirty nappies on the garden. No?